MERCER CREEK MYSTERY
by SANDEFUR
Summary: A dog gone good crossover.
1. Chapter 1

MERCER CREEK MYSTERY

By SANDEFUR

Disclaimer: I have no claims on any character in this crossover story.

Part One: Occurs in June, 2005

Velma ran faster and faster, refusing to look over her shoulder at the horror that pursued her. The danger of crashing in to something or tripping over some unseen danger in the dark was great, but she had to risk it. If she could just get enough of a lead to be out of view for even a minute, she could slip off the trail and hide in the woods. Unfortunately, her pursuer matched her best speed.

Legs burning, sweating profusely, Velma ignored her body's pain and desperately tried to keep her glasses on. Of all the things to have regrets about at such a time—why had she never taken the plunge with laser surgery instead of relying on her thick eyeglasses? A shriek of pain escaped her lips and reminded her of another regret. She had stumbled into a thorn bush, and her trademark miniskirt left her exposed to numerous cuts and scratches.

Legs bleeding, Velma had to pause for just a second to catch her breath. Looking back, she saw it, the hideous thing that relentlessly hunted her. It was closing quickly, sensing victory was near. There was only one option left to her. Velma left the trail and plunged deeply into the thick woods. Away from the relative brightness of the moon-lit trail, Velma had to feel her way carefully to avoid crashing into one of the many trees. She had chosen west as her direction, towards Mercer Creek, which she would reserve for her last chance. Fed by mountain streams, and swift flowing in early June, any attempt to swim the creek would be a life or death risk.

Hiding behind a fallen tree, Velma forced herself to breathe quietly and rest as she waited to see if her monstrous antagonist would find her. Velma Dinkley had gotten use to facing extreme dangers in her young life, but always before she had had her close friends to rely on. Silently, Velma cursed her decision to come alone to Arcadia Maryland.

X X X X X

(Early that morning…)

Joan Girardi sat on her front porch sipping coffee and once again wondering what God was thinking. It had been weeks since her last encounter with Ryan Hunter, and since then another local church had been attacked and a couple of popular pastors had received beatings. What was God's assignment in the face of all of this? To go pick flowers.

Luke and Friedman, knowing that next semester's science class would be biology, were already planning an extra credit project. The rarest flower in the region was the West Maryland Bluetip, which usually bloomed only in May and June. The guys planned to scour the Mercer Creek area for the elusive plant. If found, it would be transplanted to the Friedman's hothouse and hopefully be thriving when school started in September.

Unfortunately, neither Luke or Friedman were the outdoorsy type, and were completely unfamiliar with Mercer Creek. Joan had spent a lot of lazy afternoons there with Adam, and Luke had tried to recruit her as their guide. At first she had refused, even though there had been an offer of shared credit. But an encounter with Dog-walker God, who curiously had been leading a pair of Great Danes, changed everything. In obedience, Joan had gone back to Luke to agree to his proposal, and that was why she was up so early on a Saturday morning.

A green minivan with a vitamin logo on the side halted in front of the Girardi house. Friedman exited the van and approached Joan, who was surprised by the change in her fellow sub-defective since she had last seen him. Not only was he unsually casually dressed in a green t-shirt and brown denim, but he had grown a scruffy set of chin whiskers.

"Friedman, what's with the goatee?"

"It's suppose to be my attempt at a full beard, but so far the only noticeable growth has been on my chin. Are you and Luke ready, or do you want to change first?"

Joan looked down at the blue dress with green trim she was wearing. "Change? Don't you like my outfit?"

"It's fine for a day at the mall, but for a hard day's tramping through the woods…"

"Friedman, it's Mercer Creek, not a trek through the Amazon. Relax, I'll be fine. You and Luke will be the ones who will have to worry about keeping up with me."

As if on cue, Luke exited the house struggling with a large cooler and a picnic basket. He too was casually dressed in blue jeans and an old white shirt. Gasping a sigh of relief, Luke deposited his heavy burden on to the porch.

"Hey buddy, what have you got?"

"Picnic supplies for our little expedition. My Mom insisted."

"Same here. Between what you've got and the stuff I have in my Mom's van, we have enough to feed an army."

Friedman gave Luke a hand with transferring their supplies to the van. A reluctant Joan followed, and paused briefly to look up at the sky and murmur, "Really, this is a priority?"

X X X X X

At that moment, ten miles west of Arcadia, near Mercer Creek, a taxi halted in front of a prosperous-looking farmhouse. Velma Dinkley, carrying a single suitcase, paid off the cab and paused to examine her family's historic Colonial-style homestead. Nearly two hundred years old, it was referred to as the "New House," because it had replaced the original family home built a century earlier. After her father's death the year before, and her recent 18th birthday, Velma was now half owner of Dinkley Farm along with her Aunt Connie. Determining the eventual fate of the farm had brought Velma all the way from California to here.

From the house came a taller, 40 year old version of Velma, who enthusiasticly embraced her niece. After effusive greetings and pleasantries were exchanged, they entered the large old farmhouse and settle in the den.

"Now that we're caught up, we have to get down to business. We have to decide whether or not to sell the family farm."

"That's what I don't understand, Aunt Connie. You've been managing the farm for years, and no member of the family has ever considered selling our land in almost three hundred years. Why now?"

"Before, none of us could sell the land because it was held in a family trust. Do you remember the family history?"

"Certainly. In 1716 our ancestor, Thaddeus Dinkley, and his partner Josiah Mercer, settled this valley along with two dozen other families after they had received a land grant from the royal governor. They established farms and a small village and prospered during their first year. But then disaster struck. A plague hit the community in 1717 and wiped out ninety percent of the people…"

"Including Josiah Mercer and his entire family. Thaddeus Dinkley inherited his share of the land grant, and he bought out the survivors for next to nothing. This made him the largest land owner in the colony, and eventually a rich man. At the end of his life he established a trust that passed the estate intact from father to eldest son for all of time."

"Oh, I see. Since Dad was the last male Dinkley, the trust is broken and can now be sold. But why sell? Aren't you happy here?"

"I love this old farm, Velma, but there are so many pressures now. An investment group wants the property so they can dam Mercer Creek. That would create a lake for recreational purposes and land development, as well as cheap, pollution free electricity for Arcadia."

"That sounds like a good plan, but if we don't want to sell, they can't force us. Can they?"

"They can. If we turn down their offer, Cyrus Cornwall, who heads the investment group, has threatened to close on the land using imminent domain. Cornwall has the political clout to do it."

"So we have no choice?"

"There is another offer, from a group representing environmental and historical preservation organizations. They want to preserve our large section of Mercer Creek, as well as the historic buildings here—including the old log cabins in the woods that were part of the Underground Railroad."

"That sounds better."

"Except they can only afford a modest offer. Of course it would spare us the expense of fighting off an imminent domain battle."

"I take it you think we should sell?"

"Any other time I would say fight for our land, but… I'm scared. I've come to realize that this place is cursed."

"Cursed? Aunt Connie, that's illogical. Why do you feel this way?"

"I recently learned the truth of what happened in 1717. The community didn't suffer a plague, they were poisoned by our ancestor!"

"That's… shocking, but how could you learn this after such a long time?"

"Because two nights ago I was visited by Josiah Mercer's ghost!"

TBC. Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

PART TWO

Velma smiled indulgently at her aunt's pronouncement. "Really Aunt Connie, the ghost of Josiah Mercer appeared to you? I know you must have seen something, but trust me, it wasn't a ghost. I know from long experience, there are no such things as ghosts."

"That's easy for you to say, you weren't there. It was midnight two evenings ago and I was headed from the main barn to the house when he suddenly appeared in front of me. I've never been so frightened as I was in that moment. He was dressed in colonial style garb, and his face was hideously distorted from the pangs of agony he suffered during his poisoning, he said. His skin was a pale green and his eyes glowed a bright red, and it was all I could manage not to faint."

"That sounds horrible, but isn't it possible that what you saw was a man in a mask, pretending to be a ghost?"

"Do you think I'm a child who can be fooled by some Halloween stunt? Velma, he floated two feet off the ground and wavered back and forth between transparent and solid. Please believe me, it was a real ghost!"

"Okay then, what did the ghost want?"

"After telling me the truth about what Thaddeus Dinkley did, Josiah claimed we owed him a debt for our ancestor's crime. He said he and the other victims had slumbered peacefully all these years, but now they were angered by the plans for the dam. The ancient graveyard where their bones rest would be flooded under a hundred feet of water. Josiah and the others will not tolerate their graves being disturbed."

"Interesting... their desires line up perfectly with the environmentalists' cause of preserving Mercer Creek. Who is leading that effort?"

"Norman Naylor, a real fanatic when it comes to environmental issues, but Velma, you're way off base with what you're thinking. Like I said, it wasn't a man in a scary mask, it was..."

"A real ghost. Yeah, I heard you, but believe me Aunt Connie, there are lots of ways to fake what you've seen, I need to find this Norman Naylor and question him."

"His organization, Green Arcadia, has a small office downtown, but most days he's down at the creek taking soil and water samples. He is preparing an environmental impact report to present to the courts."

"You allow him to trespass on our land?"

"Family tradition has always been to allow the local population free access to the creek. It's a popular recreation spot and does us no harm."

"In that case, I'll see if I can find him at the creek."

X X X X X

Meanwhile, Joan and the two guys had arrived in the Mercer Creek area. After parking as close as they can to the Dinkley Farm property line, the group-led by Joan-began a short hike to creekside. Joan carried a spade and a sample case while Luke and Friedman toted an immense amount of picnic supplies.

"Really guys, did you need to bring all those provisions? I know where to find your flower-the Bluetip? I've seen it lots of times."

Friedman paused, sweating profusely despite the unusually cool day. "We think otherwise. The West Maryland Bluetip is very rare, and this could take us all day."

Joan felt like yelling: Stubborn Jackasses, but held her tongue. She was on assignment to help them find their flower, and even if it made no sense to her, the habit of obeying God had gotten too strong to ignore.

They pressed on, and twenty minutes later they reached the one particular spot Joan had been leading them to. Joan noticed the creek was much higher and faster flowing than she had ever seen. Despite global warming, the spring melting in the mountains had come very late this year. Reaching a small rise just next to the creek, Joan triumphantly pointed to a patch of flowers that numbered in the hundreds.

"As promised, as many West Maryland Bluetips as you could want."

Luke and Friedman dropped their supplies and quickly began examining the flowers. They soon stopped, turned to Joan and chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

Luke replied, "A rookie mistake. These are West Maryland Blacktips, and they're as common as dirt."

Joan paused to examine the flowers at their feet. Each of the small white flowers had a bluish-black tip at the top.

"These look exactly like the photo you showed me."

Friedman opened a field guide to a picture of the Blacktip and folded a page so the Bluetip was next to it. "The Bluetip is a mutant variety of the Blacktip in which the black coloration doesn't develop."

Even staring at the two photos side by side, Joan was hard pressed to notice the difference. The Bluetip was a navy blue color while the Blacktip was only a slightly darker version.

"They're almost identical. How will we ever find your damn Bluetip?"

A voice from behind said, "With perseverance and a lot of luck."

They turned and saw they had been joined by a tall, balding, painfully thin man dressed in khaki shorts and a green t-shirt with the black lettering: Green Arcadia.

"Hello kids, I'm Norman Naylor, president of Green Arcadia, and I take it you are searching for the elusive West Maryland Bluetip?"

"Yes sir, I'm Luke Girardi, this is my sister Joan and our friend, Friedman. We're here trying to earn extra credit for biology class. Have you seen the Bluetip in this area?"

"I have, but I won't tell you where. It's a very rare flower and really should be on the endangered list."

Friedman said, "But it's not, and that makes it legal to transplant it to my family's hothouse."

"It may be legal, but that doesn't make it right. The Bluetip is a delicate flower and very sensitive to being moved. Even if you find one, the odds of successfully moving it are long."

Joan snapped her fingers. "That's why a living specimen is worth extra credit."

Naylor sadly nodded, "Some day it might be worth more than that. If those Arcadia fat cats have their way, the creek will be dammed and this natural habitat will be lost to build lakeside homes for the rich."

"I wasn't aware of any such plan." Luke commented.

"Yes, Cyrus Cornwall, the developer, with the backing of Arcadia politicians and the city's biggest newspaper publisher are all supporting the plan. They say it will bring progress to Arcadia. The blind fools!"

Joan's interest suddenly peaked. "Ryan Hunter is involved in this scheme?"

"Yes, apparently he's the one who first proposed it. It seems he was on Mt. Nashman two months ago during a rainstorm, God knows why, and he noticed how all the mountain streams feed Mercer Creek with a steady, year around source of water. From the mountain he could see how easy it would be to dam the creek and provide cheap electricity to attract even more industry to Arcadia. He and Cornwall and the others will make another fortune while Mother Earth suffers yet again!"

With the back of his hand to his forehead and tears in his eyes, Norman Naylor hastily walked away. They watched as he made his way downstream. Friedman was the first to offer a comment.

"What a kook! Of course most of these environmental whackos are a little crazy. Imagine being opposed to cheap, pollution free electricity."

Luke responded, "I don't know Friedman, it would be a shame to lose a unique environment like this one."

"It's not unique. There must be a couple of dozen similar creeks and streams in this area, and all of them have the West Maryland Bluetip."

As the guys began a heated debate, Joan's cell phone sounded. She quickly stepped away because she recognized the ringtone as: When The Saints Come Marching In. Sure enough, the caller I.D. read: GOD.

"This isn't a good time." Joan whispered.

"Oh it's an excellent time Joan," Dog-walker God said. "I want you to follow Norman Naylor."

"Follow him? But why?"

"Be quick Joan, and don't let him spot you."

Dog-walker God disconnected and Joan felt her usual irritation at being kept in the dark. Still, her habit of obedience was ingrained.

"Uh guys, sorry to interrupt the debate of the century, but don't you have to examine every one of these flowers to check for a Bluetip? Shouldn't you get started?"

Luke sighed, "She's right. This will take a long time."

As the guys searched through the flowers, Joan started to walk away. Friedman called after her...

"Hey, aren't you going to help us?"

"I think I remember another patch of flowers downstream. If I find them, I'll hurry right back to you."

Joan rushed away and kept going fast on the creekside path until she caught sight of Naylor. Instantly, Joan slowed her pace and moved stealthily as she followed her quarry. She didn't know what the guy was up to, but if God was having her follow him, it must be something serious.

Behind her, Joan was unaware that she too was being followed by a short, teenage girl with brown hair and thick eyeglasses.

TBC Please Review


	3. Chapter 3

PART THREE

Velma had left the farmhouse with the intent of hurrying to the creek, but as she crossed the farm, she slowed to appreciate the beauty and industry around her. The orchards, grape arbors, fields of grazing livestock and fields of fresh sewn crops caused a wave of nostalgia to wash over her. Until a couple of summers ago, she and her parents had vacationed here every summer. Velma remembered idyllic days of horseback riding, swimming and picnics by the creek.

The farm was a huge enterprise with over thirty workers kept busy all year with its' many productive endeavors. Although profitable, the farm's high expenses kept it from being a fortune maker. Logically, the offer from the investment group was the smart move—it would make her rich. But Velma's soul rebelled at the thought. She couldn't explain it, but after three centuries her very blood was tied to this land. In that instant she knew, no matter what, she would fight with every fiber of her being to keep this farm.

Upon reaching the creek, Velma wondered how she was going to find Norman Naylor. The creek twisted and turned its' way for miles through their property. There were well established trails through the woods that bordered the creek, but she would have to be very lucky if she were to stumble across her quarry. But luck was with her. In the distance, in a small clearing, she spotted a group of young people who looked oddly familiar.

Velma saw the tall, thin man join the kids, and she hurried forward, certain that this was the man she was looking for. Hiding behind a tree, she surreptitiously listened to their conversation. What she heard confirmed her suspicions about Naylor. He was just enough of a fanatic to try a stunt like frightening her aunt with a phony ghost.

When Naylor moved off downstream, she was determined to follow him, but was surprised to see the girl (Joan was it?) follow him first. Intrigued, she joined in by trailing the other girl.

Their little procession traveled about a half a mile downstream until Naylor came to a canoe that was tied up to the creek bank. Looking about cautiously, Naylor scanned the surrounding woods and listened carefully for any unsual sounds. Velma hid behind a tree and made certain she was very still. She knew that look. It was the hesitant look of a man who was up to no good and didn't want to get caught at it.

Quietly, Velma peered around the tree and watched as Naylor, now carrying a large box, made his way to a small clearing. Naylor dropped to his knees and began doing something in the flower patch, but Velma wasn't close enough to tell what. She wanted to move closer, but she didn't want to be heard. Besides, she had lost track of the Joan girl, and there was no telling what she was up to.

"So why are you following Norman?" Joan whispered.

It took all of Velma's self control not to gasp from shock. She whispered back, "Jinkies, you scared me."

Still whispering, Joan replied, "Sorry about that. I'm Joan Girardi and I just met Mr. Naylor and thought he was a real oddball. So, I decided to follow him and see what he was up to. What's your story?"

"Velma Dinkley. My aunt and I own this land, and as for my interest in our Mr. Naylor…"

To her surprise, Velma found herself pouring out all the details of her family's problems. She didn't know why she instantly trusted Joan, but she did. Maybe because in that blue and green dress (and if you added some red hair dye), Joan was a remarkable lookalike for her friend Daphne. When Velma got to the part of describing Josiah Mercer's ghost, Joan softly snorted her disbelief.

"That's no ghost. It's someone's cheap horror movie idea of a ghost."

"I agree, and I've had plenty of experience with people faking ghosts in order to frighten others away. Norman Naylor is the logical suspect."

"Speaking of whom…" Joan looked around the tree, "Oh crap, he's gone!"

The two girls came out of hiding and quickly searched the area. Velma spotted him downstream in his canoe just as he rounded a bend and disappeared from view.

"We've lost him. I wonder what he was up to?" Velma asked.

"He was digging amongst those Blacktip flowers."

"Aunt Connie said he spends time here collecting soil and water samples for an environmental impact report. If he could prove there's something unique about this valley's environment that would be lost by flooding the area, he could get a court injunction blocking any dam."

"Except there are no one-of-a-kind species native to the Mercer Creek valley. These flowers are West Maryland Blacktips, which I've been told are ubiquitous to this area. Even the rare Bluetip the three of us were searching for isn't unique to Mercer Creek." Joan said, feeling proud that she had used "ubiquitous" in a sentence.

Velma and Joan began searching through the patch of flowers, but couldn't find anything significant. Naylor had obviously been digging around the flowers, but why? Briefly, a knowing smile appeared on Joan's face, but she quickly wiped it away.

"I ought to get back to the guys before they start to worry. It's nearly lunch time. Why don't you join us?"

Velma shrugged, "I could eat. I saw those guys earlier, and they looked… interesting."

"Interesting? Yeah, I guess you could call them that. The blond guy is my brother Luke… he's taken."

"And the other one? The shaggy looking guy?"

"Shaggy-looking? Ha! I love that. With his unruly hair and that ridiculous, thin goatee, that's a perfect description of Friedman."

As they walked back upstream, Joan began filling in Velma on The Friedman.

X X X X X

Lunch with the guys was a strange affair. Velma confided to the guys her supicions of Norman Naylor and the mysterious ghost. The two young scientists dismissed the idea of a spectre, and agreed with Velma's suspicion of the odd Mr. Naylor. They then fell into a conversation about various scientific subjects, and it turned out Velma was as much a science geek as the guys.

The conversation drifted into topics that were of little interest to Joan, so she settled for observing the interplay between the three others. It took Joan a while to realize the guy's interest in Velma wasn't purely scientific. Under her bulky, orange turtleneck sweater, Velma's ample bosom was unsupported by a bra. Friedman was transfixed, and even Luke couldn't resist taking a quick peek every time the fabric momentarily tightened around her nipples. Then there was that tiny, brown miniskirt she wore (really, who wore those now days?). Every time Velma crossed her legs, which was often, the guys strained mightily to appear casual as they tried to get a glimpse of… (what had Kevin once called it? Oh yes…) the Promised Land.

When lunch came to an end, and as the guys were packing up, Joan drew Velma aside to chastise her. "Look Velma, I know we've only just met…"

"I know what you're going to say, and I agree. I've behaved shamefully, and I'm sorry. Believe me, I usually don't flaunt myself with guys."

"So why now?"

"I guess it's because I normally hang with my best friend Daphne, and she's like you—gorgeous. In social situations, guys only seem to notice her. At most I'm viewed as her short, four-eyed, geeky sidekick. I don't blame Daphne, she's a wonderful friend, but it is a little ego deflating. Just now, when the guys ignored the pretty girl and focused on me, I guess it went to my head."

For a moment Joan wondered if Grace felt that way about her. "Well, Luke is my brother, and as for Friedman, I've smacked him in the head so many times, he wouldn't dare think of me that way."

Velma briefly smiled at what she thought was Joan's joke, but then she realized she was serious. "You really smack him in the head?"

"Eventually every girl does. He has this habit of saying the most annoying things… So, are you interested in him?"

"I could be if he were a couple of years older. I just turned eighteen and I can't see myself dating a sixteen year old, no matter how cute he is."

Friedman cute? Joan considered the idea and had to admit he had a certain goofy charm. Eww, what was she thinking? She definitely needed to find a new boyfriend. At that moment the guys rejoined them.

"We're all packed up and ready to resume our search for the Bluetip. Care to join us, Velma?" Luke asked.

"Thanks for the offer, but I need to talk over some business with my aunt. Plus, I need to take a nap so I'll be fresh for tonight."

"Why, what's tonight?" Friedman asked.

"Now that I've arrived, Aunt Connie and I can decide the fate of Dinkley Farm at any time. If Naylor is our phony ghost, he will have to step up his activities right away. If I can catch him at it, he will be discredited and that will be one less pressure on my aunt."

"This sounds a little risky, especially on your own." Joan said.

"That's right. We all volunteer to be here tonight to help. Right guys?" Friedman said.

"Absolutely. Sounds exciting." Luke added.

"Sure, why not?" Joan reluctantly agreed while thinking this was more a job for the sheriff's department.

"Thanks everyone. I usually go into these situations in a group, and I'll feel better having you guys with me." Velma said as she wished her real gang and Scooby were with her.

TBC Please Review.


	4. Chapter 4

PART FOUR

When Velma arrived back at the farmhouse, she found her aunt had a visitor. He was a pompous looking man in an expensive suit who reeked of power and money. Velma instantly disliked him.

"Velma dear, come say hello to our prospective buyer, Cyrus Cornwall."

Velma reluctantly greeted the visitor and endured a handshake so firm it made her wince.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Dinkley. Connie has told me all about you. I like doing business on a first name basis. Mind if I call you, Thelma?"

"I would prefer Velma, which is my name. What brings you by ?"

"First, VELMA, I wanted the chance to meet you, and secondly, I've brought an enhanced financial offer for your land."

"It's a very generous offer, Velma. In addition to the original offer, Cyrus and his associates will grant us five percent of all future profits, if we agree to sell within a week."

"Why the rush? I thought we had months in which to decide."

Cornwall replied, "Time is money, and acting quickly will help us beat Green Arcadia to the punch. If we can present the various zoning boards with a done deal before the environmentalists can mount a legal challenge, that will greatly enhance our chances of victory."

"Can Green Arcadia stop the project?"

"In the long run, no, but they can tie us up in court for months or even years if we don't act quickly."

Connie added, "Plus, Norman Naylor has been bragging to his followers that he has a fool proof plan to stop the dam."

Velma smiled as she concluded what Naylor's plan involved. "I didn't get a chance to meet him, but I saw Mr. Naylor in the woods, and he does seem to be acting strange. Even so, I have to be honest and say I'm not willing to sell the farm."

Both adults reacted strongly to Velma's statement. Cornwall spoke first. "Are you siding with these all-progress-is-evil people?"

"Not at all. The dam sounds like an economic boon to the Arcadia area, and would only have minimal impact on the local environment. My objection is more personal. This land has been my family's for nearly three hundred years, and I just can't bring myself to let it go."

Connie said, "Velma, I of all people understand about family attachment to the farm, but we have to be practical. Think of what the money means. You could attend the finest college in the country without any worries over cost. You could even help those close friends you told me about with their college expenses. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

"The farm provides a good income, and I have scholarships to make up the difference. As for my friends, they have their own resources."

Cornwall said, "I hate to be heavy handed about this, but if we have to, my associates and I have the political clout to force an imminent domain battle. Such a lawsuit would drain your finances, and in the end you would lose. A court ordered sale would gain you only a small fraction of the offer that is on the table. I would prefer to do things the friendly way, but I will do whatever I must."

Connie added, "Velma, you know the political reputation of Arcadia. We could never win against them."

Velma sighed, "I haven't kept up with the political scene in Arcadia, but I remember Dad use to say it was the most corrupt city in the country. I don't know… I need time to think."

"I can only give you a week to decide. After that, things will get ugly." With a shrug of apology, Cornwall left the Dinkley home.

"Velma, as half owner of this property, no sale can go through without your agreement. I understand the pull of nostalgia this place has on us, but the reality is that we are going to lose this farm. If we delay, we will also lose a fortune. Please, think it over. I know if you look at the situation logically, you will do the right thing."

Connie left the room upset and nearly in tears. Velma began to understand the pressures her aunt had been enduring. Tonight, they would hopefully remove one of those pressures by dealing with the so-called ghost.

X X X X X

That evening, just as the sun was setting, the same three subdefectives were back in the Friedman family minivan and headed towards Dinkley Farm. Luke and Friedman discussed their biology project.

"Do you think the transplant will take?" Luke asked.

"We followed every instruction in the field guide for the procedure, but even then the book says the chance of success is only 50-50. All we can do is wait, buddy."

Joan groaned, "You mean if the plant dies, we have to go looking for another one?"

"If we have time to find one. The bloom usually drops off sometime in June when the temperatures rise. We can't rely on this cold snap continuing." Luke said.

"Don't worry Joan, if the flower survives, you'll get full credit in our biology project. After all, you found it." Friedman said.

"And what a chore that was! Staring at hundreds of flowers and trying to spot a navy blue tip amongst all those bluish-black tips nearly made me cross eyed. It would be so much easier if the Bluetip was say, a light blue color. I don't suppose that's ever possible?"

"Never happens. No one has seen a Bluetip any lighter than navy blue." Luke answered.

"Hey look, there's Velma talking to some guy." Friedman said.

The minivan stopped in the main farmyard near where Velma was speaking with a middle aged man who was clearly a farm hand. Velma waved the others over.

"Guys, this is Hank Greenly, the farm foreman. Hank, tell them what you told me."

"Just that for a week now, I've noticed strange lights going on and off in the woods near the creek."

"Is that unusual?" Joan asked.

"Latter in the year it happens some. People go frog-gigging or night fishing, but the creek is too high, too cold and much too swift for that sort of goings-on. I reported the matter to Miss Connie, but she told me to stay away from there. She almost seemed afraid by what might be down there."

"Thanks Hank, that's all we need to know." Velma said.

Hank gave a friendly nod and walked away from the group. Velma again addressed her new friends.

"The only thing I can figure is that Naylor is pulling this stunt with the lights to make my aunt nervous, and possibly to lure people into what ever crazy scare tactic he has waiting for them."

"So that means we're headed into the woods?" Luke asked.

"If you're up to it, yes. Naylor would need a base of operation, and there are only two structures in the woods. They're tiny but well-preserved cabins that were used long ago as part of the Underground Railroad. One of them is at the west end of our property, and can be reached by a service road."

Friedman quickly said, "Velma and I can check out that one. I'll drive us there in the van."

"That leaves the one nearest to the house for the Girardis. Just follow the main trail for about a mile and you'll run right in to it."

Joan nodded, "We're already prepared. We have flashlights, and Friedman and I have fully charged cell phones."

"Who are you going to call? Friedman, the ghostbuster!"

Laughing, the two teams went their separate ways.

X X X X X

A short time later as Luke and Joan followed the trail deep into the woods, Luke began to look doubtful. "You know Joan, this is kind of crazy. Here we are taking who knows how big a risk in order to help a girl we only met today."

Joan, who had inside information to guide her, glibly replied, "But it's a mystery, and isn't finding out the unknown one of your goals as a scientist? Besides, Velma is nice, and I know you appreciate her,,, charms."

In the dark it was impossible to see how much Luke blushed. "Oh, you noticed how much I was noticing Velma's, uh…"

"Big boobs? Don't worry, I won't tell Grace."

"Thanks. I admit Velma is smart and cute and has… those, but I'm not interested in her. I'm only here supporting Friedman. He's crushing on her big time."

"A shame for him, because Velma thinks he's too young for her… Hey, there's the cabin."

Quickly, Joan and Luke switched off their flashlights and quietly approached the well maintained log cabin. Once at the door, they did a three count and then burst inside. Their flashlights revealed a completely empty room.

Joan sighed, "Judging by the dust on the floor, no one has been here in months. Hopefully, the others are having better luck."

Meanwhile, at the western edge of the Dinkley property, Friedman halted the minivan at the dead end of a narrow service road. On the drive he had tried to think of some non-lame compliment he could use to break the ice, but he was too distracted by that oh so enticing sweater. A sharp reminder from Velma to watch the road had briefly driven flirtation from his mind.

As they exited the van, Velma said, "The cabin is about a hundred yards deeper into the woods."

Using flashlights, they started towards the cabin, but Friedman suddenly stopped. "What's that hidden in the bushes?"

A quick check revealed a four-wheel ATV with saddle bags on the back that had the initials, N.N.

"N.N., Norman Naylor!" Velma said.

"Check the contents."

A search revealed clothing in the style of the colonial era.

"No wonder you and your friends enjoy debunking ghost sightings. The analytical mind can so easily outwit the people who resort to these frauds."

"Don't get cocky. There can still be some nasty surprises ahead."

Velma led the way until they reached the cabin door. The pair also used the three count routine before bursting inside. Their flashlights revealed a man, floating in midair, wearing colonial garb. His face was hideously deformed, his skin was a pale green and his eyes glowed bright red. The small cabin vibrated with the banshee cry he uttered.

Friedman's flashlight shook wildly in his hand as he gasped, "A-a-a ghost!"

TBC Please Review


	5. Chapter 5

PART FIVE

"Steady Friedman," Velma advised, "remember it's not real."

But Friedman was no longer by her side. No, he hadn't run away—instead he had fainted and was now on the dusty floor. The ghost screeched out another blood-curdling sound, and Velma felt her knees begin to tremble.

"It... it is not real. Not..."

Suddenly the ghost came toward her, looking very solid and very menacing. Almost without conscious thought, Velma turned and ran. The ghost ignored Friedman and pursued Velma while continuing it's horrible cries. Instinctively, Velma ran toward the green van parked a hundred yards away.

When Velma arrived, reasoning finally kicked back in. Friedman had the keys! She would have to run, but which way? If she followed the road, she would soon have open fields on either side with no place to hide, and Velma desperately wanted to hide. That left the woods. Velma turned and found the ghost blocking her path. Startled, she dropped her flashlight, which shattered and plunged the area into darkness. Velma had to pause to let her eyes adjust, but surprisingly, the ghost seemed to hesitate for the same reason.

Did ghosts have to adjust to sudden changes in light? It's not a real ghost, her mind reminded her. Even so, reacting faster than the creature in front of her, Velma ducked under its' outstretched arms. She began her desperate attempt to flee by running along the main trail going through the woods. This was the same effort that eventually led to her cowering creekside behind a fallen tree.

While all of this was going on, Friedman had revived from his faint. Feeling foolish and a little bit ashamed of his behavior, Friedman used his flashlight to search the cabin and then the ground outside. It didn't take him long to find Velma's broken flashlight at the start of the trail that led through the woods. She was heading east, fleeing from the ghost, and he had no idea how far a head start they had. Friedman pulled out his cell phone—time to call in the calvary.

A short time later, Velma watched from her hiding spot while the ghost methodically searched for her. It had seen the general area where she had left the trail, but it would take time for it to find her exact location. Velma knew it had to eventually find her, but she was now rested and ready. If possible, she would try to make it back to the trail. If not, and shivered at the thought, she would have to swim the creek.

Suddenly, lights shone on the trail as voices called out her name. It was the Girardis searching for her. Velma's sigh of relief was cut short when she realized the ghost had found her and was reaching for her! Automatically screaming and rolling away, Velma was quickly on her feet and running for the trail. The Girardis guided her with their flashlights, and she only calmed down when they both were giving her a welcoming hug. They might not be her usual gang, but they would do in a pinch.

The ghost noisily followed her back to the trail, and the glowing, hideous thing let loose another of its' terrifying screams. Reacting to a primitive male instinct, Luke stepped forward, ready to defend the girls. At the sight of the monstrosity before him, Luke's mind quickly told him what a dumb idea that was.

"Wow, it really is a ghost." he mumbled.

"Relax little brother, it's just a show."

Without hesitation, Joan walked forward and easily passed through the ghost. She returned to them, going through the ghost once more—proving that despite its' solid appearance, it wasn't real.

"It's a hologram!" Luke concluded.

"Which means someone is nearby using a holographic projector." Velma said.

Luke and Joan quickly searched the area with the beams of their flashlights, and soon spotted a figure dressed in a ninja costume and holding an electronic device. The black outfit gave perfect camouflage at night, but now revealed, the stranger dropped the device and turned to run. Unfortunately, at that moment Friedman rounded a corner of the trail and collided with the ninja. WHAM! Both were equally stunned as the fell backwards, flat to the ground.

As the others rushed up, Friedman was the first to recover, and a little unsteadily, he helped Luke to restrain the groggy ninja. Joan stepped forward and placed her hand on the ninja's mask.

Velma said, "And now we get to see the face of Norman Naylor."

"Did someone call my name?"

The four teens turned to see Naylor rushing up to the scene. "I saw the lights and heard the commotion, so I came to see what was going on. Who's this you've captured?"

Velma replied, "We thought it was you. Since it's not, could it be... Cyrus Cornwall?"

"Oh, it's someone you know much better than that." Joan laughed and then yanked away the mask.

'AUNT CONNIE!?"

X X X X X

Less than an hour later, in what Joan felt was the most bizarre turn of events yet, Connie Dinkley was serving tea and cake to the four teens in her dining room. That Velma was willing to accept this situation showed just how odd some families could be.

"I'm really sorry for going so overboard with the scare tactics Velma, but when I got into 'ghost mode,' it seemed to take on a life of its' own."

"I've been through worse Aunt Connie, but why did you do it?"

"I desperately wanted to sell the farm, but Cyrus had a provision I didn't tell you about. If Norman successfully blocked the dam project, the deal was off. Cyrus didn't want to be tied up in court for a decade fighting off environmental objections. I remembered all the tales you told me of busting phony ghosts, and I thought if I could frame Norman with such activities, it would completely discredit him."

"So you were the one who put the colonial costume in Mr. Naylor's saddlebags."

"Yes, and I paid for the holographic projector using a money order in his name. I had arranged for you to find that clue later on, but I didn't get away with it because of these kids who helped you."

Friedman and Luke grinned and exchanged high-fives. Connie chuckled at their exuberance.

"But why did you want to sell? I thought you loved the farm."

"Oh I do, but I've spent my entire life here! The thing that I love has tied me down and made me its' prisoner. When the offer for the farm came, I guess I lost perspective. All that money seemed my only hope to get out and experience life before I got too old to enjoy it. I'm sorry Velma."

"Aunt Connie... you need a long vacation. Take some time off, explore the world and hang the expense. I'll kick in for your trip. You deserve it."

As aunt and niece exchanged hugs, Joan spoke up. "It's just as well things ended this way, because the dam project was never going through. Earlier today I spotted a West Maryland Bluetip, but it was strangely light blue in color—so I thought I had made a mistake. But out in the woods just now, I confronted Mr. Naylor with this information, and he confirmed that this was his secret project. He has been working night and day locating and documenting the existence of this new subspecies of Bluetip, which is unique to this valley. On Monday there will be a federal injunction banning development along Mercer Creek."

Velma smiled broadly. "Then the farm is saved!"

X X X X X

Epilogue

It had been a long day, but it was still short of midnight as Joan sat on her front porch and waited. She didn't use the blanket she had, because even at this late hour, the temperatures were still rising. A warm front was blowing through, and the heat of summer was finally beginning. From the house Joan could hear one of the old records her Dad loved to play. Frank or Dino or one of those guys was singing a love song with the improbable lyrics: scoobie doobie doo... Down the sidewalk came Dog-walker God, still with his pair of Great Danes. Joan hurried forward to meet him.

"Hey, what's with the Great Danes?"

"One of my favorite breeds, and appropriate to this case."

"Oh yeah, Velma mentioned something about working with a Great Dane during some of her mysteries. It's too bad I couldn't tell her the truth about how I knew it was her aunt under that mask."

"She wasn't ready to accept the truth."

"That it was the real ghost of Josiah Mercer who appeared to me while Velma and I were searching that flower patch. He was very upset over the lie that was being told about his friend Thaddeus Dinkley, who never poisoned anyone. So Josiah told me everything about Connie's phony ghost scheme, and Norman Naylor's con job involving the Blutip."

"Yes, when he was a teenager, Norman did a biology project similar to yours, only he kept up with it over the years. In his own hothouse, he crossbred generations of Bluetips until he developed a much lighter variety. When he heard about the dam project, he realized if he could re-introduce his new flower into the Mercer Creek valley, people would assume it was a natural phenomenon. Mercer Creek would be saved."

"Which worked out well for Velma."

"And for Connie, who suffers from the-grass-is-always-greener syndrome. After experiencing her world of adventure, she will quickly come to realize the farm is where she is happiest."

"That's great, but what about Ryan Hunter?"

"The Mercer Creek dam was Ryan's way of ingratiating himself with the wheeler-dealers of Arcadia. This failure will be a brief, embarrassing setback to his plans."

"And those plans are...?"

"Have a good night, Joan." Dog-walker God said as he continued on his way.

Joan watched until she saw the familiar backhand wave. Well, she had saved a family's farm, dealt Ryan his first blow and had witnessed that hilarious collision between Friedman and Connie. All-in-all, not a bad day. Humming along to the still playing music, Joan entered her home.

THE END

I know I put "Please Review" at the end of every story, but I really mean it. The only "pay" fanfiction writers get is reader response. Truly, I'd rather have negative feedback than silence. Please encourage your favorite writers with a review. Thanks.


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